


Life's Not Perfect, But...

by Littlelambred



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, canon divergence s1e20
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-02
Updated: 2014-05-02
Packaged: 2018-01-21 14:42:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1554035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Littlelambred/pseuds/Littlelambred
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>canon-divergent from ep 1.20 : Skye doesn’t let H.Y.D.R.A get their hands on the USB, no matter the cost.</p>
<p>Her lips curled; this was not the moment for some sort of sappy, “We could have been perfect” speeches, because as much as Skye loved those scenes in movies, in real life they turned out to be extremely disappointing and emotionally taxing. Also maybe a little disgusting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Life's Not Perfect, But...

“There’s still good in you, and I don’t think you’re going to hurt me.” There was a hint of desperation creeping into her tone, into her stance. She leaned forward slightly, holding her breath. Mike – she refused to call him by that stupid alias – paused, pursing his lips, before finally speaking. He chose his words carefully and spoke them slowly, softly.

 

“You’re right, I won’t hurt you.” He turned towards Ward, whose expression was pinched, as if he were in a great deal of pain. Skye made eye contact with him for a heartbeat before zeroing in on how Mike had raised his weapon. Skye exhaled sharply through her teeth.

 

At the same moment, as all air rushed out of her, Mike shot a single bullet. There wasn’t much noise, aside from a sharp shriek and then an uncomfortably hiss, like air released from a soda bottle. Ward’s mouth dropped open; the bullet embedded itself directly above his heart and crackled with electricity.

 

Ward crumpled, clutching at his chest. “What – what did you do to him?” The words didn’t come out dramatically, like Skye supposed they should have. In fact, they were barely more than a whisper.

 

“I stopped his heart.”

 

“His heart…” What was her nickname for him again? _Robot_? _Tin Man_? To think, he’d had a heart all along.

 

“Isn’t beating.” Mike turned away from Ward. “He’s having a heart attack. I can restart it, or not, it’s your choice.”

 

Ward writhed, tilting his head to look up at her.

 

When Skye was eight, the family she’d lived with had had a dog named Rover. Rover fell ill only a couple of weeks upon Skye’s arrival, and they’d had to put him down. The entire family, the two parents, Skye, and their son, had all huddled around Rover while the vet had euthanized the family pet.

 

Skye could see Rover’s eyes, pleading and glassy, in Ward. She could hear Rover’s laboured pants in the gasping way Ward choked out her name. “Skye…”

 

“You think I don’t want to watch him suffer?” _Think about Koenig_ , she thought. _He would. So would May. So should I._

 

But she didn’t. Simple as that. Just as she’d had to look away and bury her face in her foster mother’s side, Skye could feel her façade slipping as she watched Ward claw at the small metal contraption in his chest.

 

“Not suffer.” Mike stepped closer. “ _Die_.”

 

“Garrett doesn’t think you’re going to let that happen.” Mike was baiting her. He was toying with the affections so plainly written across her body. She wished that she could bottle up those feelings inside of her as easily as Ward had, as easily as May could.

 

Ward gasped for air. “He’s a murderer.” There was slightly more conviction in Skye’s voice.

 

“Yes, he is.” Mike paused for a heartbeat. “Are you?”

 

_No_. Cold, hard certainty in that fact washed over Skye, pouring over her like a flood. Her throat and stomach ran cold; her eyes stung. She bit back a scream.

 

Ward stopped gasping so loudly. His breaths were slowing, less laboured, less frequent. His eyes were wide and unblinking. His skin was pale.

 

Skye exhaled angrily, feeling like a trapped animal under Mike’s scrutiny. She paced, whining a little. She was eight years old again and couldn’t bear the thought of going home to a house without her beloved pet.

 

Ward stopped breathing.

 

Skye tugged on her restraints angrily. “Okay, stop.”

 

“Where do you unlock-“

 

“Bring him back!”

 

“Where?”

 

She looked up at him desperately. Mike’s face was cold and without mercy. “35 000 feet! It’s not based on longitude and latitude, it’s altitude.”

 

“You’re lying.” He accused. His face was inches from hers; his breath washed over her.

 

“I’m not!” She wanted to scream. “I- I put the password in and start the hack and… and when we reach the altitude, it unlocks, now _bring him back_!”

 

Mike weighed his options for a second before finally letting go of the device in his fist. The transmitter rang and both pieces lit up.

 

Ward gasped awake; Mike un-cuffed Skye from the banister.

 

“Put in the password and start the hack.” He directed her towards her laptop, which was stationed all on its lonesome in the middle of the Lab. “No tricks.”

 

She stared down at the laptop. _Think, Skye_ , She mentally chastised. _They can’t get their hands on the drive._

 

“I can’t put the password in yet.” She blurted out. Mike stopped in front of Ward, who was slowly dragging himself to his feet. She made eye contact with him.

 

Ward narrowed his eyes slightly. Could he see through her lie?

 

“What do you mean?” Mike demanded.

 

“I can only put it in once we reach 35 000 feet. Before then and I’ll wipe the whole thing.” She said all of this without tearing her eyes from Ward’s.

 

Ward could definitely tell, but for some unbeknownst reason, he kept his mouth shut.

 

Mike wasn’t pleased, but there wasn’t much that he could say. Instead, he turned to Ward, jabbed him in the chest, and ordered him to fly the plane. Ward snarled, enraged, but his skin was still pale and his breathing was irregular. If push were to come to shove, Ward could easily be taken out.

 

Grant argued. “I can’t. I can barely stand.”

 

Mike flexed his hand; the transmitter sang again, and Grant stood alert, groaning, as if he’d been electrocuted. Mike patted his cheeks. “That should help.”

 

Ward breathed heavily. His upper lip twitched in anger.

 

Skye refused to make eye contact with him, but she knew that he was staring at her through the glass. She awkwardly tapped away on the keyboard, scanning everything in the room aside from Ward.

 

She could feel his gaze on her up until her rounded the corner, disappearing towards the cockpit.

 

\---=

 

She could hear footsteps. Someone was coming to tell her to unencrypt the files.

 

She hadn’t been able to think of a better plan in the short time frame she’d been given. She looked up, struck to find Ward walking purposely down the hall towards her. She couldn’t let her emotions get the best of her, though.

 

Before he could reach her, she tore the drive from the laptop’s USB port and threw it under the heel of her boot. Ward yelled her name, sprinted for her, but he couldn’t reach her before she drove her heel into the floor, effectively crushing the USB.

 

Ward stopped in the doorway. His eyebrows knit together and his hand curled around the doorframe. Skye was certain that she’d just sentenced herself to death.

 

Ward stepped towards her and she jerked back, scattering pieces of the drive. He stopped advancing. His expression was unreadable, but behind his eyes, Skye thought that she could see something sad, some painful emotion, shining.

 

“Oh Skye.” He whispered. “My beautiful, smart girl.”

 

She wanted to spit in his face. He started advancing again. She backed up until she was pressed against one of the counters. He raised his hands and cradled her face, pressing his forehead to hers.

 

Her lips curled; this was not the moment for some sort of sappy, “ _We could have been perfect_ ” speeches, because as much as Skye loved those scenes in movies, in real life they turned out to be extremely disappointing and emotionally taxing. Also maybe a little disgusting.

 

“We need to get you out of here.” He said instead. He looked her in the eyes, and up close, Skye could see the pain behind his mask, could see the bags under his eyes, and could see the scars that littered his face. Up close, he was not the Grant Ward she knew, but he wasn’t the Grant Ward she’d expected, either.

 

Up close, he was a scared little boy, clutching whatever he could to his chest and holding on to it dearly.

 

“Deathlok will be coming any second. I need to get you to the cargo hold. We can get you into Lola or… or something.” Grant searched her face desperately. “We’ll do something. I just can’t let them get you.”

 

And that was it. That was the end of their moment. Ward turned, grabbed hold of her hand, and dragged her out of the Lab. One of his boots crunched over the scattered remains of the USB, and Skye found that ironic for some reason.

 

“Why?” She asked. Ward cast her a glance over his shoulder, urging her to stay quiet.

 

“Because without the drive, they have no reason to keep you alive.” Ward said. “They’ll kill you, or they’ll _use_ you.”

 

He emphasized _use_ with such disgust that Skye didn’t really want to know what he meant. “ _Use_?”

 

“Super soldier tests. Pills, radiation, surgery. Whatever the hell he wants, Garrett will pump it through you until you’re purple and spewing Russian when he finds out what you’ve done.”

 

“What do you mean, _‘super soldier_ ’?” Skye asked in a small voice. Ward turned a corner and stuck close to the wall, so Skye followed his lead.

 

“I can’t tell you that.” Ward said coolly. “I’m still H.Y.D.R.A, sweetheart.”

 

“Not if you’re helping me escape.” She countered. He made a noise that seemed ike he was agreeing with her.

 

“Captain America type tests. Drugs that enhance the adrenal system, that stimulate muscle growth, that supposedly make you stronger.” He finally explained. “But so far, only forty percent of our tests have been successful. The rest died of heart-attacks or hyperventilated.”

 

They were just outside of the cargo bay now. Before they reached the room, Skye had one final question to ask.

 

“Why don’t you let Garrett use me then?” Ward stopped immediately. For a second, Skye thought that he was going to leave her. “I’m of no use to you now.”

 

Instead, he spun around and pressed her into the nearest wall, pinning her under his weight. He pressed his nose into her neck, one hand coming up to card through her hair. Skye argued internally with herself.

 

Tentatively, one of her hands came up to rest on his shoulder, and he relaxed into her touch.

 

“Call me selfish, but I was kind of hoping to keep you safe. Not for Coulson, and definitely not for S.H.I.E.L.D and the team’s sake, but for me.” He murmured. Skye could hear Mike ambling through the plane. Ward stepped away from her and tugged her along urgently.

 

She only just made out the words, “I’ll keep you safe.” As Grant urged her into the cargo hold

 

She was just as surprised as he was when, upon storming the room, they found Coulson standing in the middle of it, wide-eyed.

 

Ward didn’t waste any time on Coulson. He shoved Skye in front of him, towards Coulson, and growled, “Take her.”

 

Coulson didn’t let go of Ward’s gaze, but he did accept Skye, wrapping her into a warm hug.

 

As cheesy as it sounded, hugging Coulson felt like coming home. She finally let go of the breath she felt like she’d been holding for years, and melted into him. He smelled like the laundry detergent they all used to use on the Bus, as well as the cologne he always used.

 

Coulson was leading her towards Lola with Ward standing guard by the door, when suddenly Mike burst through the door, his head whipping around furiously. Skye thought that he reminded her a little of the giant from Jack and The Beanstalk, searching for the one who robbed him of his golden goose.

 

Ward reacted quickly, raising his gun and firing directly at Mike. Mike’s armour shielded him from most of the bullets, but one of them nicked his temple, and the gash was already bleeding down the side of his face.

 

He picked up Ward by his throat as if he were a ragdoll and tossed him to the side. Ward skidded across the floor and crashed into the wall. He didn’t get up.

 

Couylson clambered into Lola’s front seat and flicked a switch. Two of the car’s headlights sank back into the car’s frame, replaced by two terrifying looking automatic machine guns. They locked onto their target immediately, distracting Mike.

 

Coulson yelled something, and the AI system on the Bus responded accordingly. The cargo floor shifted beneath her feet; he’d over-ridden the system. They were getting out.

 

She hopped into the front seat of Lola upon Coulson’s urging, secured her seatbelt, and watched as they backed out of the plane, narrowly missing one of Mike’s shots.

 

The plane remained in the air. Nothing changed, no dramatic music played, and Skye discovered that her life, as much as it was like an action movie, was not as captivating. There would be no love interest for her in the end. No dramatic music, no final reveal where she whipped off Garrett’s mask and he turned out to be a good person all along.

 

Instead, all she got, instead of a cut-to-credits or a fade-to-black, was the image of Ward being tossed out of the plane as well, and the cargo bay closing as he hurtled towards the ground without a parachute.

 

Skye didn’t scream. Lola rocketed forwards, and Skye passed out.

 

\---=

 

Ward awoke in a motel room. A quick check of the surroundings told him that he wasn’t being held prisoner – or at least, there wasn’t an imminent threat in the room – so he allowed himself to get out of bed, to turn on the tap and to splash water over his face until he felt marginally more human.

 

A quick check of his face told him what he feared was true: he hadn’t been dreaming. Hydra had been exposed; Skye hated him; Garret wouldn’t take him back now if he begged and cut off his own right hand.

 

 There was a large bruise along his throat in the shape of a hand. His cheek was marred by a faint white scar. His eyes were lined with black smudges.

 

Coulson’s voice shook him from his reverie. He was flanked by both Melinda and Trip, and all three of them wore identical blank expressions. Ward could barely muster the energy to let go of the sink counter, let alone fight.

 

Fitz’s head poked up over Trip’s shoulder and peered at Ward. Ward sighed; he hated this team so much, but something deep inside of his flipped at the sight of Fitz standing on tip-toe to get a glance at Ward, as if Ward were his older brother, being chastised for going out late.

 

“You need to start talking.”

 

“Is Skye okay?” Ward asked. No one answered, so Ward asked again, this time with more hostility. “ _Is Skye okay_?”

 

“She’s fine.” Fitz piped up. All three agents bristled; Trip turned around to glare at the shorter boy. “Sorry, I just… She’s fine.”

 

Grant sighed in relief. “Thank you, Fitz.”

 

Fitz gave Ward a look. A ‘ _you’re not going to be forgiven that easily, but I still love you_ ’kind of look.

 

To Ward, as small as the gesture was, it was the start of something that could mean redemption.

 

It was also the start of a family.

 

Ward took a deep breath, sat down on the lid of the toilet, and started talking.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to the lovely [Sheep ](http://sheepwhoarecrimsonred.tumblr.com/) for beta-reading this! I love you so much uwu  
> Also, I've cross posted this on my [tumblr](http://end-of-theline.tumblr.com/) if you want to swing by and say hi!


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